


Face Down

by dmdys



Series: Boys Will Be Boys [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Big brother Gregory, Child Abuse, Gen, Gregory is the best big brother and I will fight anyone and everyone, Hurt/Comfort, Jesse Manes is a dick, Jesse Manes isn't fit to be a father, big brother flint, teenage Manes boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmdys/pseuds/dmdys
Summary: It's happening again.Flint sits up in bed, his heart racing. The crashing sound from downstairs echoes through the whole house, like some kind of vibration. A second sound, the smashing of glass, makes him startle, almost jumping out of his bed.Shit.It's bad this time.The sound of a young boy crying filters up through the floor, and he feels like he might actually throw up. He can hear his father, not yelling, barely raising his voice, but still penetrating through the house like a poisonous gas.
Relationships: Alex Manes & Flint Manes, Alex Manes & Gregory Manes, Flint Manes & Gregory Manes, Jesse Manes & Everyone
Series: Boys Will Be Boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781371
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	Face Down

**Author's Note:**

> So! 2x12 was something, eh? Protective big brother Gregory is my new sexuality. 
> 
> So, I have this all consuming love for Kiowa Gordon, hence why I seem to write about Flint in a kinder way than he propably deserves. 
> 
> I've decided to put my Manes Boys™ fics into a series, because I just know I'm gonna want to write more.
> 
>  **Warning:** Whilst I don't describe the physical abuse, it is mentioned and heavily implied.
> 
> Title credit to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

It's happening again.

Flint sits up in bed, his heart racing. The crashing sound from downstairs echoes through the whole house, like some kind of vibration. A second sound, the smashing of glass, makes him startle, almost jumping out of his bed.

_Shit._

It's bad this time. 

The sound of a young boy crying filters up through the floor, and he feels like he might actually throw up. He can hear his father, not yelling, barely raising his voice, but still penetrating through the house like a poisonous gas. 

"You're pathetic," he hears his father almost growl, and it's followed by the sound of skin meeting skin, a slapping sounds that he almost feels himself.

"Please, dad," he can hear the younger voice plead. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" 

Another crack.

Flint swallows. It's been a few weeks since the last time he'd heard his father and Alex. It was easy to slip into the guise of ignorance when things were quiet; pretending he didn't notice the bruises on Alex's arms, putting his headphones on to drown out the sounds of his younger brother's cries from across the hallway. It wasn't right, and he knows that, but what can he do? He can't stand up to their father. If only Alex would just stay in line, and not-

Another sound of smashing glass pierces his thoughts, and this time he does get out of his bed. 

_What has he he done this time?_

Flint slowly creeps towards his bedroom door and presses his ear against it. He can hear Alex's sobs growing stronger, and his dad's low, snarling voice seems to be almost imperceptible. He leans his forehead against the door an squeezes his eyes closed. He just wants it to stop. He just wants Alex to stop getting their dad angry, and he wants his dad to stop picking on every little thing Alex does, and he wishes his mom was here, and-

There's the unmistakable sound of the kitchen table being knocked over, and Flints stomach tightens. 

"No, dad, please," he hears Alex almost scream. "Please, no, not the belt."

Flints eyes snap open. _Not the belt._

The last time Alex had been given the belt, he'd had to take a week off school, because there was no way anyone would believe those welts were from a clumsy accident. There was no way Maria Deluca or Liz Ortecho would keep quiet. 

His legs feel weak, but before he knows it, he's pulling his bedroom door open. He can't let that happen again. Smacking the kid about was one thing, but not this. Flint remembered the scars on his mother's back from her residential school teachers, and the pain in her eyes whenever anyone asked about them. How could he live with himself if she ever came back and asked why he didn't protect his baby brother?

As Flint builds himself up to step outside his bedroom, he hears the creaking of another door along the hallway. He looks up to see his older brother, Greg, pulling a shirt on, his face full of hate. Their eyes meet and Greg nods at him.

"Go back to bed, Flint." Greg says, pulling his bedroom door closed behind him. He's still in the jeans he must have fallen asleep in and his hair is tousled from sleep.

"He's using the belt," Flint says meekly.

Greg purses his lips, and even in the dark hallway the anger seems to radiate from him. "It's okay," Greg says, and he pats his shoulder as he passes him. "Go back to bed."

Flint stands there for a few seconds, watching his older brother disappear down the stairs. Soon enough, Greg's voice join the cacophony of voices in the kitchen and Flint quickly closes his door and almost runs back to his bed. He pulls the sheets over his head, but he can still hear everything. In fact, it's louder now that Greg has stepped in.

"What the fuck, dad?" Greg's voice echoes.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that. Get back to your room, this is nothing to do with-"

"You're going to kill him!"

Flint squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the sting of tears that are trying to fight their way out.

"He needs to be taught a lesson!"

"Not like this, he doesn't! Christ, he's bleeding!"

A sob escapes Flint's chest and he hates his mom so fucking much, but he wishes she was here. He wishes Clay was here, he wishes _someone_ was here. He knows he has no right to feel sorry for himself, or scared, but he can't help it. He knows he's the lucky one, the favourite son, but that doesn't mean he wants to be. He doesn't want any of this. He wants to be on the reservation, he wants to be a kid again, he wants to be running around in the hot sun with his stupid brothers with his maternal grandparents laughing from the stoop. 

It's not long before things go quiet. Flint pulls the bed sheets down and he startles as the front door slams. A few seconds later he hears his father's truck pull out, and he can only assume he's gone to a bar, or so the Valenti's. He lays there for a few seconds, listening to his own heartbeat, when weak whimpers break through his empty thoughts. He can hear Greg's voice, low and soothing, but Alex's whimpering is like a scratch on a chalkboard. It's a minute or two before he finally manages to force himself to get to his feet, and he gently makes his way into the hallway, then down the staircase. He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his stomach dropping so far he's convinced a part of him may have just died.

The kitchen table is on it's side, and there's shattered glass on the floor. Alex, in his stripy sweater and too-tight jeans is sitting on the floor, his nose bleeding and his bottom lip split. Greg is kneeling next to him with a wash cloth, talking quietly and wiping at the back of Alex's head. Flint can see the blood on the cloth, and he swallows loudly, catching the attention of his brothers.

"Flint," Greg says, and his voice is shaking a little. "Go back to bed, it's-"

"Are you okay?" Flint manages to say, his voice cracking a little.

Alex blinks up at him, and a drop of blood drips down his forehead. He nods. "I'm okay."

Flint nods, biting his bottom lip.

"Flint-" Greg begins again, his voice still shaky but also suddenly authorative. "Just go back-"

"I wanna help," Flint says, and he steps forward, carefully, trying to avoid the broken glass. He reaches for a broom and without another word, he starts to sweep.

Greg watches him, but says nothing. He sighs and goes back to wiping Alex's head.

They work in silence, the only sound being Alex's sniffles. Flint cleans up the glass and puts it in the recycling bin and straightens up the kitchen table and chairs. Before long, Alex is on his feet, a messy dressing on his head and tissues stuffed in his nose.

"I don't think you should sleep..." Greg says, but Alex shakes his head.

"It was the buckle, I'm okay." He flinches a little. "I didn't hit my head or anything."

Flint swallows and just stares at his two brothers. 

"You sure?" 

Alex nods. "I really...I just want to go to bed."

Greg nods, then looks at Flint. "You good, kid?"

Flint nods, then one by one the make their way up the stairs. Greg rubs Alex's back as the younger boy makes his way into his room. When Alex's door is closed, he turns to Flint.

"Dad found some, uh, magazines," he raises his eyebrows. It takes a second for Flint to understand, but when it hits him his eyes go wide.

"What?!"

Greg nods. "Out in the tool shed." He rolls his eyes. "Homophobic son of a bitch."

Flint just swallows and nods. Greg puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, it's gonna be okay. As soon as high school is over, we're all out of here, and we never have to come back, okay? Just a few more years."

Flint purses his lips and nods. He wishes it was that simple. He wishes he could run off to the Navy, like Greg is doing at the end of the Summer. He wishes he could just leave and never turn back. He'll never leave. He'll always come back, even if he doesn't want to. He knows that he's trapped. He knows he's the one that has to stay behind. He knows he's the one that needs to stay with their father, because if he doesn't, no one will.

"I've got a meeting in the morning," Greg yawns, and pats his shoulder. "Just...keep an eye on him, okay?"

Flint nods again, and he watches as Greg disappears back into his own bedroom. He stands there, feeling lifeless and frozen. He watches as Alex's bedroom light goes dark through the gap at the bottom of the door, and he suddenly finds himself stepping forwards instead of back into his own room.

Quietly, Flint pushes Alex's door open, but Alex doesn't notice. He's lying in his bed, his cell phone in his hands. He glances up and startles a little when he sees his older brother standing there.

"Flint?" Alex croaks, but Flint just shakes his head and closes the door behind him. He makes his way around the bed, and climbs in next to Alex. He keeps his back to him, facing the window, but he can feel Alex's body next to him.

He can't protect his little brother, but he can at least keep him company for the night.


End file.
